


In the Dark

by beautifullyheeled



Series: Placebo [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Love Letters, M/M, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Bitter Redress. </p><p>John and Sherlock both live through the brutal changes that have been forced upon them. Giving everything just might not be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark

_I can’t just wish it away you know. It happened. You, me, this...the stuff between. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive them, but who needs forgiveness anyway if you’re dead, or nearly so at any rate. I knew I shouldn’t have let him live. No, should have killed him with my own bare hands, right then on that sodding concrete floor. There was so much blood-loss anyway, he was weak, it would have been easy..._  
  
 _But that was then, well not as if it were ages ago, only six weeks._  
  
 _Six weeks. Today. And here we are dancing around one another, both doing little but keeping track of the time. You are doing surprisingly well physically, and the physio therapist that comes is a great woman. I’m glad she can bark at you and make you work yourself back to better. The worst of the physical is behind you. I’m so very proud._  
  
 _It was so hard, working on you that night. I’m so very thankful I was able to keep my wits, honestly. God, love, you were wrecked. I know I’ve never really written very much about it, but please forgive me when I say this, I pray to never be mending you like that again. Ever. You are too precious to me. Having the viscera, spreaders, staunching, tying you back together. Christ, we are so very lucky love. I am so very lucky, to have you still here._  
  
 _So, the scarring should be not too terrible, hopefully much better than mine at any rate. You still cannot abide touch. But that is alright. I understand. In time, maybe never...I still love you regardless._  
  
 _There are days I need to be angry._  
  
 _Those are the days I run. I’m up to eight miles. That will be good for us when you choose to go back to consulting. I am glad though that you have been doing the research you have on the lab you’re having built on your floor. Looks just brilliant. Especially the large cold units. Though I have no idea why you need a full autopsy table...better leave that to you._  
  
 _Mycroft has me still listed with a special license, but no one but us needs to know. James, Bill, and I try to hash out times to work out the final few threads, but my heart just isn’t in it at the moment. They know it. It is nice of them to include me in the updates; they know I worry still for you. You’re so very quiet sometimes, more than you ever were. Then, some night I awake to find you pressed tightly against me sobbing._  
  
 _I never press, just hold you, and pray._  
  
 _See, the anger again. Oh it is quick and fierce. What was taken from you. What you will never show because you believe it means you are well and truly broken...Sherlock...it’s alright if you are. That’s what doctor’s do, don’t you know? They mend. I’ll mend you if you wish, all you ever need to do is just, well not even ask...you just look at me and I’ll know alright?_  
  
 _I was broken and you not only mended and soothed me, you reforged._  
  
 _I know, romanticism._  
  
 _I’m not sorry though, it is true. You were the only thing that kept me going while I was away. The fact that I would come home to you, maybe a bit kinder from the intel, and I was alright with anything you were willing to throw my way. I’d accept any punishment, any form of repayment for the pain I had caused you while you thought me across the veil._  
  
 _But I wasn’t, and you never asked for any, so it is just us. Our new offices are taking shape, as well as our rooms upstairs. I am glad you had chosen to stay here, instead of across the way. I do understand though, why you are over there quite often more than not. It gives you a feeling of normalcy. You control that space. It was yours before even I walked into your life. You need that right now. A bit of dominion and control, and it’s quite alright, love._  
  
 _I’m off to run. Can’t write anymore._  
  
 _I love you all ways, you madman._

_~JHW_  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
John closed the journal, pushed back, and tied his laces.  
  
As he headed out the door from their flat at 222 Baker, he made sure to grab his hooded light jacket as well. He would have need of the inner pockets for his keys, phone, and was growing very fond of the pocket on the arm for his iPod. Heading down a flight, he peeked in on Sherlock, letting him know he was off out for a run, then he’d bring dinner back to the flat.  
  
Thai? Not a problem.  
  
The light misting that hit his skin as he made his way through to Regent's at a warming jog felt so damned cleansing. God he had needed air. He wished he were in snow. Oh, the cold biting his lungs would be marvelous, maybe drown out his heart for a while. Soon enough, he was making the circuitous route, the music and his own feet thumping on the course drowning out the world.  
  
He knew he loved Sherlock. Would give the man anything, but he was having just a sodding hard time keeping himself in check lately. It was normal to want to touch a hand, rub a shoulder, glance fingers passing a mug of tea. But Sherlock, he wasn’t alright. John knew that too. At least his physio could touch him. That was good. Progress.  
  
 _She was also a woman._  
  
The implications were not lost on John. His fiance of three, almost four weeks...Mother Mary, had it been a month? He supposed so the Banns had been read twice already at his family's church where Harry and Clara still attended, so he supposed it had been...he would have to discuss their upcoming date then. Not sticky at all really, Sherlock was very happy for it. Winter wedding. Well, quiet one at least. The list was all of forty people. He would have asked Greg to be his best man, but he was still emotional. No, Greg could come with Mycroft. Possibly, or maybe with Molly so they could commiserate together.  
  
She had been avoiding them since John had been back.  
  
John found himself not caring.  
  
She had immediately tried to insinuate herself in with Sherlock, even with his fiance telling her out right he had no feelings other than a ‘sisterly regard’ for her. It became slightly worse on John when he realized that Sherlock would accept a kiss on the cheek from her but not him, not shudder away when they accidentally touched.  
  
 _Bugger. He needed to calm himself, not get all worked up._  
  
He tried to break it off gently with his love, thinking it would be the best, but Sherlock had gone near catatonic. So no dice there. Not as if he even wanted that to occur. Maybe they needed space yes, but maybe there would eventually be something...some sort of conclusion they could work to about at least the ‘caring’ and ‘loving’ touches. He’d be chaste the rest of his life if that’s what it meant to love the one person that sparked his soul. But the light caresses? With no weight behind them? Losing those were still playing hell.  
  
Enough for today, he had dinner to get for the two of them, then later flowers and deserts to discuss.


End file.
